Creative Writing Pieces
by NickyNoo14
Summary: These book in based on a load of creative writing pieces I have written myself. Enjoy!
1. One Minute to Six

**YOU MUST READ THIS! Hey Guys! So I've decided to put "SonAmy: Fear of Water" on hold for a bit because I've hit a writers block. After I have finished "The Fear of Water" I'm planning to write several books/fanfics based on the TV show "Miraculous Ladybug: Tales of Ladybug and Chat Noir" I absolutely LOVE that show and now that Season Two is coming out in drips and drabs I barely have time to upload since school is also piling on the homework and unit tests. But I promise that at least one or two chapters of "Fear of Water" will be up during the Christmas holidays! I have decided to write this book about pieces of creative writing that I have written myself. I hope you enjoy!**

 _This is set five years after the best-seller "_ Private Peaceful - By Michael Morpurgo" _finished. If you have not read this book, you can decide to read at your risk as there ARE spoilers about what happens. You have been warned. On to the chapter..._

One minute to six

I lead Tommo by the hand towards the garden of names. He has to know the truth _._ For Little Tommo's sake, we all had to pretend that I was his father. We all tried not to cry, Molly, Mother, Big Joe and me. We all tried to forget. But we could not, as home was not the same without Charlie, just as it was when Father died. Our side won, but it permanently feels like I lost everything. Instead of winning everything. Big Joe was distraught when I arrived home in Blighty without Charlie. I had to tell them all the truth because Big Joe could sense my anxiety. We had cried for days, walking around like soulless life forms. Charlie's death created a giant cloud over Molly. Most days, I felt like they didn't want me around, because I looked like both Charlie and Father. But the nagging part of me thought they were cherishing every second they could spend with me. Every single piece of me, as if I was going to be snatched from them any second.

The garden of names, the churchyard. We buried Charlie next to Father. There was no funeral, nobody mentioned him. When they did, they air became empty and emotionless. The Colonel had said that it served him right. We ended up ignoring the Wolfwoman and the 'silly old fart', as all they would do was insult Charlie and Father. They not once stopped disrespecting either of them. And now Charlie's dead. I don't have the heart to insult them back.

"Why are we here daddy? Have we come to see Grandpa?"

Like Big Joe, Little Tommo could sense when we were upset. A single tear slid down my face as I ruffle Little Tommo's hair. I'm not going to tell him. Yet. He has to know. He thinks that Charlie is his really brave uncle that died in the war. When he says that, Molly runs out of the room to calm herself down before she bursts into tears. I've never seen her so upset. I guess she really loved Charlie.

We kneel in front of the two graves, my memories beginning to play like a broken record. Fuzzy and incomprehensible at first, then smooth and clear. He doesn't know. He will have to find out someday. But for now, Little Tommo deserves to enjoy his childhood. Like Charlie and Father did. Like I did.


	2. Dictionary

Dictionary

An old, rustic book. Containing words.

Thousands of words,

Phrases too, all in one book.

Pen drawings doodled on like miniature masterpieces,

One flicks through the many pages, searching. Hunting.

The only form of protection peeling off from age.

The many words inside. Fading, disappearing.

Forty thousand words and phrases

Four hundred and sixty-six pages,

All in one book.


	3. A windy day

A windy day

Leaves tumble over one another

Forming tiny tornadoes

The wind whispering in your ear

Making it shiver from the cold

Whispering secrets

But you do not understand

Your hug your coat closer to your body, begging it for protection from the cold

Trees losing leaves and twigs as quick as the rain falls

Rocking violently

Desperate for the wind to die down.

Bags are plucked from the ground and thrown into the air

Moving back and forth

Like a ball in a volleyball game

When the wind has gone

The world looks different

Bins have toppled over

Clothes are caked in mud

Great, big piles of leaves

The wind can change the way the world looks

For better, For worse

There is no stopping the wind

For you never know when it will strike next

Plotting, waiting, for the right time to come


	4. Rain

**For this one, I picked the sentence "It started to rain" and I turned it into something longer. Enjoy!**

Grey clouds hover over their destination,

becoming darker by the second.

Trickles of water start to appear. Then rivers.

The clods, crying out their sorrows, ranting out their problems.

The more it rains, the sadder they are.

Pitter, Patter, Pitter, Patter

Bouncing off the floor.

Making puddles, for children to jump in.

No one knows how clouds really feel.

All we know is that when the clouds are grey.

It's going to rain.


End file.
